Yassen
by MaStEr-WoLfIe
Summary: Yassen Gregorovich survived the bullet! Finally updated! Chapter 10 now added!
1. Yassen

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the characters in the Alex Rider adventures. If you think I do, you have serious problems…

Hey peoples…this is just a stupid little idea that popped into my head when I was bored. It's a really, really short fanfic and it's probably not very good.

This is for all you people who were not satisfied to see the way cool Yassen Gregorovich die at the end of Eagle Strike.

"_Yassen had one last thing to say. 'If you don't believe me, go to Venice. Find Scorpia. And you will find your destiny…"_

_Yassen shut his eyes and Alex knew he would never open them again._

_Or so he thought…_

**Stupid break thing won't work…different scene below….I HATE my computer**

Alex Rider ran through the woods at his top speed, getting more desperate and confused with every step. Who were those people? What would they want with a cabin full of noisy, English schoolchildren? Were they after him? Something whizzed by his head, hitting a tree and exploding into splinters, and Alex abandoned the questions, replacing them with the thought of survival. The air was getting colder with every step, and soon, Alex came across a patch of snow; and another, and another, until he was standing stock still, in a field of snow. Alex groaned. The footprints in the snow made it impossible for him to escape his pursuers. Yet, it was quiet, strangely quiet. Had the pursuers given up? Alex cocked his head and listened, hard, to hear the pining of hounds off in the distance. They had sent DOGS to go after him!

Alex took off again, wondering how long he could keep up the running. He knew he could easily run three miles within 24 minutes, but he also knew that the dogs had more stamina than him, and could go much faster for much longer. The barking was growing louder, and Alex increased his speed, careful not to slip in the snow. The barking grew steadily louder, and with a burst of snow and some flying blurs from the corner of his eye, Alex found himself surrounded by three large, ugly, ferocious dogs.

Alex stood frozen, with the dogs surrounding around him in a semicircle. The dogs showed no signs of wanting to attack, but stood there growling; trapping Alex. Showing as little movement as possible, Alex reached into his pocket, and pulled out a gadget from Smithers that he had never used and had been allowed to keep. It was a ring, that looked like it had been taken from the set _of The Lord of the Rings_, but one of the symbols on it was darker. Alex held his breath, and pressed the symbol; instantly, his fingerprint activated the gadget and Alex threw it on the ground in front of him. Sensing that something was wrong, the dogs lunged, just as the ring exploded. Alex ran again, leaving the yelps and the smoke behind.

_Silence_.

Feeling a bit spent, Alex began to slow down just as another bullet whizzed pass his head, followed by another which grazed him on the shoulder.

Clutching his shoulder, Alex cursed and veered off to the right. A big mistake. Alex stepped onto a piece of ice, slipping, and found himself temporarily transformed into a human sled as he moved over the ice at an amazing speed, unable to control himself.

**Stupid break thing won't work…different scene below….I HATE my computer**

Alex's pursuer smiled as he saw the boy slide onto the ice and over the edge, into a deep ravine. The boy was as good as dead. If Alex had been a man, the pursuer would have gone down to the ravine to verify the death, but Alex was a mere boy. The fall down the ravine had certainly snapped the child's tender neck. The pursuer turned and began his trek back to the cabin where negotiations were waiting. He had barley taken three steps when a shot rang out of nowhere, and he crumpled down dead.

As graceful as ever, Yassen Gregorovich walked up to the man, and nudged the body with his foot. The man rolled over, his eyes blank, a bloody hole in his forehead. Yassen frowned at the corpse, and went over to the edge of the ravine. It was not too deep, and Yassen slid down easily, picking up the unconscious Alex.


	2. Tom

**Disclaimer: **If you think that I own Alex Rider, you're retarded.

Thanks for the reviews people. I apologize for the lack of action…I'm not very good at this stuff. Later on in Chapter 3 there might be some fighting and weaponry and stuff. I'll try to make it as….violent…as possible…evil cackle This chapter will move kinda slow btw, it's just like….explanations and stuff…action will take place in the next chapter. Sorry if I'm slow to update. My teachers bury me with homework, quizzes, and tests.

About the geographical locations…forgive me you Brits out there that are reading my story if the geography doesn't make sense. I am an ignorant American that doesn't know very much about English geography.

Alex Rider groaned and opened his eyes. He felt as though someone was mashing his head with a sledgehammer. What had happened? Something about a chase, a fall; It all came back to him slowly. Tentatively, he sat up and surveyed the room. He was in a spacious and artfully decorated log cabin; the kind that rich people lived in. Alex stood up and stumbled to the grand bathroom, splashing water on his face. Feeling better, he went back into the room and looked out the window: the world was masked in a blanket of snow. Alex sat back onto the bed again and was overwhelmed with a sense of déjà vu. Only months ago he had awoken in a similar state at one of MI6's "training centers". Scowling to himself, Alex walked up to the door and opened it cautiously. There was no one in sight. He silently stepped out into the hall, and went down a set of stairs. There was firelight coming from one of the rooms downstairs and Alex went towards it. Upon entering, he found himself looking into the cold, emotionless face of the assassin, Yassen Gregorovich.

"Hello little Alex." Said the Russian assassin without turning.

Alex found himself temporarily speechless. It couldn't be Yassen. As far as Alex knew, the assassin was dead.

"I thought you were dead." It sounded stupid, like a line from a book or movie, but that was all Alex could think of saying at the instant.

The assassin got up and turned to Alex, who noted that the man had not lost his graceful manner. Yassen surveyed Alex for a while and then motioned to another chair by the fire. He did not speak until Alex had settled himself into the chair.

"No matter what lies the MI6 have told you Alex, I did not die on Air Force One." Yassen paused as if amused to think that possible, and then continued, "When the American secret service agents went into the Air Force One, they had been told about you, but not me. They assumed I was with Cray, but took me to a hospital where I was treated and survived. Alan Blunt recognized me at the hospital of course, and he was set on taking me in when I was well, but he was many steps too late. I escaped and altered records to make it seem as though I fled for Russia, while I am actually here in the Cumbrian Ranges. "

Yassen finished and Alex let the words sink in. Yassen had survived and was hiding right under Alan Blunt's nose. Could Yassen have anything to do with the men that had burst into the camp and held all of his friends hostage?

"Are you holding my friends hostage? Who are those men? Are you working with them? Were they sent after me? What---"

Yassen held up his hand and Alex fell silent.

"You are on this camping trip with your soccer team am I correct?"

Alex nodded.

"Interesting of your team to choose to camp when it's snowing."

"We were supposed to have cabins at the lower part of the mountains but they were accidentally given away so had to come up here. I wandered out this morning to look around and when I went back I saw the three men with machine guns. I ran and they followed me." Explained Alex, squirming under the watchful gaze of Yassen.

The assassin looked thoughtful and murmured to himself in Russian. He turned to Alex, "The American author, Dan Brown, was supposed to be staying in the cabin that your team was given, Alex. Weeks ago, I was offered a very large sum to eliminate Dan Brown. I turned it down. Perhaps the men who have taken your friends hostage were the people who were hired for the "job"."

"What will they do to my friends?" asked Alex. Why did this stuff _always_ happen to him?

Yassen turned to Alex, his empty blue eyes piercing. "I'm afraid your friends will die if you don't help them Alex. Those men went through the trouble to make sure _you_ died and all you did was see them."

Alex groaned to himself. "Why can't we just call MI6 or something?"

Yassen gestured at the swirling white flakes outside the window. "Blizzard,' he said simply, "nobody can get up here. Not even by air since there's no place to land. By the time the snow clears enough your friends will be all dead. "

**different scene below **

Tom Harris gazed up at the three masked and black-clad figures in the cabin with a mixture of fear and awe. All three were carrying weapons of all varieties and were murmuring to each other in low voices. Bits of the conversation drifted down to the boys in the room.

"Sent after boy…return…dead?...Kill…..later…blizzard…don't want to…room full of dead bodies….mistake…further down the mountain…"

Tom felt a bit of fear when he heard the words "kill" and "room full of dead bodies", but he was also rather excited. To be trapped in a room with three masked terrorists, and to be eavesdropping on them! It was just like something out of a spy movie. Speaking of spies, thought Tom, he wondered where his friend Alex was. Maybe the men were here for Alex? He _was_ a spy after all. The boy next to Tom whimpered. Tom leaned over and whispered to the boy.

"Don't worry Stuart. We'll be fine. Alex escaped and he'll come back and help---"

In a flash, one of the men had grapped Tom by the collar and pinned him against the wall. Not very tall, Tom's feet dangled in the air.

"What did you say?" growled the man, his voice muffled and accented from under the mask.

"I…um…noth—" stammered Tom.

"The name, boy, what was that name you said? And don't play games with me!"

Tom felt something cold pressed against his throat. A knife. One of the other boys in the room cried out, and he could here the Coach protesting.

"uhh..Alex." gasped Tom. He felt a sharp pain on his throat. Something hot started trickling down his throat. He had been cut.

"Alex what?!"

Maybe being a spy wasn't as fun as he had originally thought, thought Tom.

"Alex Rider!"

The man let him go, and Tom slid to the floor. The man turned back to his accomplices.

"We'll stay here and wait for this Alex Rider. I've heard of him. There are many who would pay to have him dead. I'll start contacting some of those people right now."

"A boy?" intoned one of the others skeptically.

"No," said the man, "a spy; for MI6."


	3. Dog chase

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Alex Rider or Alex Rider books.

Thanks very much for the reviews Karatematt and Lonnie! For Lonnie, Tom Harris is Alex's best friend from school. He's a character from the fifth book Scorpia and I really don't know whether he's on the soccer team or not, but it did say that he was good at sports in the book. He also ends up learning about Alex's "identity".

For those of you who have read my other fanfics, you'll know that I often make things happen too fast, or screw up the endings…I'm working at improving though. :D

Oh, and about the karate moves in here. Personally, I'm not in karate but in Taekwondo which is similar enough, but if there are any kicks that I guess aren't used in karate, I apologize. I also don't know whether they do form in karate, so I repeat the apology, if you don't; since I have Alex doing a move from red belt form in here.

**Sorry I forgot to mention this before, but if you have not read SCORPIA yet, there will be MAJOR spoilers in here **

Alex realized that he would be feeling much better if Yassen had been pointing a gun at his head, holding him here by force; forcing him to do this. But no one was forcing him to go help his friends, he had volunteered himself. Alex sighed: another vacation spoiled by the appearance of unwelcome visitors. Alex now looked at the variety of gadgets that Yassen had lain on the table in front of him, and wondered what Jack would say if she were here right now. Alex also stole a glance at Yassen. The killer had not said anything since he led Alex to the mini arsenal concealed behind the walls of the kitchen. He had merely observed Alex, seemingly satisfied with what he was seeing. Alex squirmed a bit under Yassen's gaze, and turned his attention back to the objects on the table.

_Several guns, automatics of course; various bulletproof clothing items, a hand grenade, walkie-talkie, knives and other sharp, dangerous objects. _

Alex glanced uneasily at the guns. Months ago, he would have given anything to be able to carry one on a mission, but the circumstances in which he had last been holding a gun made him change his mind greatly. _The rage he had felt, the weight of the deadly weapon in his hands, Mrs. Jones…_Alex shuddered a bit. However much he hated MI6 and their representatives, he was glad the bullet had missed. The truth had changed things a bit; the truth about his father, John Rider and Scorpia. _Scorpia_. Alex suddenly realized that Yassen did not know about Scorpia and about John Rider. Alex picked up one of the knives and examined it.

"I found Scorpia." Alex said quietly.

"Yes. I heard." Responded Yassen, "You seemed to have foiled one of their plans, too."

Alex nodded. He couldn't see Yassen's face and he wasn't sure he really wanted to.

"My father---"

"Was not who I thought he was," finished Yassen for him quickly, "either way it doesn't matter, Alex. Your father was my mentor and teacher. If not for him, I would not be so skilled at what I do. I owe him a debt that I intend to repay through you."

_How comforting _thought Alex dryly. His father had shaped the world's most efficient assassin who later killed his own brother, Ian Rider. The irony in that would have been hysterically funny if it weren't for the heaviness of the current situation.

Alex threw on a bulletproof vest and stuck a knife in his belt and another knife in his socks. He nodded at Yassen. Ready.

Yassen frowned at him. "No gun?"

Alex shook his head. Yassen continued to frown. He leaned towards Alex.

"Let me tell you the first lesson your father ever taught me, Alex: It's much better to be too prepared than not prepared. It's much better to have ammunition left over then to run out of ammunition. All part of "not underestimating your opponent"."

Yassen thrust an automatic into Alex's hands. "Your advantage, Alex, is once again your age. They will underestimate you. They will think that you are boy, so they will only prepare themselves to meet one. You are more than any boy on this planet Alex. That is how you have survived this long. "

A compliment if there ever was one. Knowing that Yassen was probably right, Alex stuck the automatic onto his belt as well. The Russian also handed him the grenade, which Alex absentmindedly strapped onto his pants, as well. He looked up and this time the assassin nodded.

"You are ready. Go now, Alex and save your friends. The blizzard has yielded enough for you to make your way back to the cabin easily.

"You're not going with me?" asked Alex; from the way the Russian had been talking, Alex had assumed that he would be coming along.

Yassen gave him an odd, almost amused look. "They are your friends, not mine." He responded with a shrug.

Alex scowled. _Repay the debt indeed_.

Alex heard the dogs before he saw the cabin. For the first time it seemed that Smither's little bomb had failed and the dogs were unharmed. Some of them had scratches, and were missing patches of fur, but nonetheless, the dogs remained in good condition. Alex was calculating the best way to avoid the dogs and get into the cabin, when came a sudden gust of wind. The dogs stiffened and instantly began to move towards his direction. In no time at all, Alex found himself facing a wall of lean, mean, hounds. The dogs bared their teeth and snarled. They obviously remembered his scent. Alex considered his choices. The automatic was immediately discarded as a possible choice. The sound of the bullet would definitely alarm the dogs who would pounce. The knife was not a choice either. To stab the dogs, he would have to get close to them; something he would prefer not to do at all costs. The grenade would alert the killers in the cabin that something was wrong, and Alex could not convince himself fully that he could get away in time from the grenade if he used it. Grinding his teeth to the sound of the growling as the dogs slowly closed in, Alex weighed his options one more time. And it struck him. It was certainly not the easiest way, but it was certainly better than using the grenade. Yassen had also given Alex special shoes adapted to the slippery snow before he left. It would work. Alex counted the dogs: one, two, three, four, five. He turned and ran.

Sprinting as fast as he could with the dogs closing in on him, Alex glanced around. He had seen what he had needed right now, the first time he had run from the cabin. There, straight ahead: another ravine. Alex sprinted towards the ravine at full speed, the dogs right behind him. At the last minute, he turned right sharply so that he was running right next to the ravine. Behind him, three of the dogs didn't make it and slid right into the ravine. The other two had barely made it and were fast behind him. Alex reached for the knife at his belt. He stopped suddenly and thrust the knife into one of the dogs as it ran by him. The animal howled with rage, ran a few more steps and collapsed to the floor, blood pooling.

The last dog now stood a few feet away from Alex; Unperturbed by the fact that his companions were dead. It leapt at Alex, fangs shining, as Alex fired the gun. Alex felt the weapon shudder as it released the lethal bullet silently. Time seemed to stop for a moment…and then the dog was on Alex. Alex half expected to feel sharp pain as the dogs fans dug into him, but all he felt was warm liquid spreading over his shirt and vest. He pushed the dog off of him. It was dead, mouth still open, with its tongue hanging out, a bloody hole above its right eye. Feeling slightly sick, Alex turned away from the gruesome image and examined the gun. It had a silencer. Sticking the weapon back onto it's holder on his belt, Alex walked over to the other bloody animal corpse a few feet away extracted the knife, which was embedded in the dogs neck.

"Dog gone it." Muttered Alex, as he walked away, surprised at what little regret he felt in killing the five monsters.

**slight change of scenes**

Inside the cabin, the three captors were ignoring their English captives, and listening uneasily to the silence outside. All three wore ski masks, and looked similar to their captives, but they were in fact very different men. The leader, the one who had threatened Tom, was Mark Getschburg, a German whose grandfather had been a prominent Nazi officer, but was executed by the allies at the end of World War II. The other two were Nikolai Vertroisky, a Russian, and Vernard Helsinki, a Finn. All three were Catholics and all three had good reasons to hate the English and Americans. The three of them met ten years ago when assigned to kill each other. They had been a team ever since. They were hired by an anonymous man, a Catholic who decided that the American author Dan Brown was shaming the Vatican and wanted him eliminated. They had come to this cabin, which was where Brown was supposed to be, but found the group of schoolchildren instead.

Helsinki, the youngest of the three, spoke: "It's been a while since I heard the dogs."

Vertroisky nodded and responded in German, the preferred language of the three. "Ja. Vor ich daß glaube, ich hörte, sie zu bellen wann. Nahm den zurückgebrachten Jungen und sie wen't nach ihm an?"

Getschburg nodded, satisfied. "Excellent. If the dogs did indeed go after the boy, he will stand no chance against them. In fact, we may as well go outside and look for his body, now."

Right after those words were spoken, a loud thump echoed above them and the three men drew their guns, as a cloud of soot blew into the room. Coughing, eyes watering, Getschburg glanced at the fireplace, which had not been lit. A figure stood there, covered from head to toe in soot.

Alex Rider spit out a mouthful of black saliva.

"Ho, ho, ho." He said.

**Translation**: Yes. I believe I heard the dogs barking earlier. Suppose they went after the boy?


	4. Inside the Cabin

**Thanks for the review Lonnie!!! And thanks for reading this people!! I'm sorry if I update slow since I have a lot of homework and I have a solo/ensemble festival coming up!!!**

**I repeat the stuff about the fighting. Personally, I'm in Taekwondo and not karate so I'm sorry if the kicks mentioned in here are mainly Taekwondo kicks, not Karate kicks. **

Getchsburg could not believe his eyes; he could hear the murmur and gasps of his captives. In front of him stood Alex Rider, covered from head to toe in soot; and he held a gun.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Alex's hand shook slightly as he held the gun pointed directly at the largest of the three masked men. He kept one wary eye on the man, and used the other to survey the room. The boys had been herded into the far end of the room, kneeling with their hands behind their heads hostage-style. The coach had been bound to a chair.

"Well…if it isn't Alex Rider," spat the man that was in front of Alex.

Alex gave a start. How did the man know his name? Perhaps Yassen was wrong and the men _were_ sent by Scorpia? From his left side, Tom caught Alex's eye. His friend was bloody and smiling apologetically. Had **_Tom_** told the men about him? Alex sighed. Tom wasn't known as a good secret keeper. Alex turned his attention back to the man, who was staring at him in a quiet, thoughtful way; very much like Yassen.

"Mark Getchsburg the name, kid. To my right are Vernard Helsinki, and Nikolai Vertroisky." Getchsburg gestured at the men on his sides and smirked at Alex. "We've been looking through your records boy, and it's really quite impressive. First it's the thing in Cornwall with Herod Sayle, that academy, Point Blank, that incident with the Americans in Cuba, and the little run-in you had with Damian Cray on Air Force One? Oh, and of course the most recent one in England…Invisible Sword, I believe?"

Alex said nothing, but scanned the room. He had to get everyone away from these three as soon as possible. One look at the men had told him that he was seriously outgunned and all three men were taller and wider than him. Getchsburg began to speak again:

"We also noticed, Little Alex, that there is quite a price tag on your head. " Getchsburg heaved a fake sigh. "Unfortunately, all three of us are out of money, and we decided that you would get us some. We'll take from the highest bidder whether they want you dead or alive so you'd better start praying, dear Alex, that they want you alive. "

Alex moved a bit to the left and balanced himself so that if need be, he could kick easily. His head was empty of plans.

"Would you like to know the highest bidders, Alex? I think it would interest you very much." Alex once again did not respond, so Getchsburg continued, "At third place Alex, is Scorpia. I do believe they want you dead, although they want to see your body as confirmation."

Alex ignored this. A plan was forming now in his mind, but he needed to place himself right. Once again, he moved to the left, stationing himself directly in front of Getchsburg, with the man Vertroisky to his right side, leaning against the window.

"The second-highest bidder goes under the name of 'Pharaoh'," Continued Getchsburg, "They seem to want you alive, little Alex."

Alex ignored this. _Ready, one, two…_

"…and the top bidder, Alex, is none other than your own MI6."

Alex stopped, not sure if he heard right. The MI6 did know about his trip, but lately they hadn't been bothering him and Alex was fine with that…but to bid for him online? Alex looked at Getchsburg, questioningly, but one look into the man's eyes told him that he had been tricked. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Vertroisky raise a gun…

Alex did a backspin kick just as Vertroisky fired. As Alex twisted his body and leaned back, he actually felt the bullet whiz by above him. Alex's heel slammed into Getchsburg's head, sending the German killer reeling backwards. Vertroisky stared and fired again, but missed.

Dropping his leg, Alex followed through with a lightening-fast double round kick to the man's stomach and a skip-hook kick to the head, but this time, Getchsburg seemed to expect it.

As Alex aimed the skip-hook kick to Getchsburg's head, the man reached up and grabbed Alex's leg, and swung the boy around, knocking him against the wall.

Alex hit the wall head-first, hard, and felt the breath knocked out of him. Someone grabbed him roughly and spun him around.

Getchsburg was there, pinning Alex against the wall by his shirt. The man's eyes were swollen, and his nose was bleeding badly. He looked plain infuriated to have been outsmarted by a teenage boy.

"You…" he growled, but that was all he was able to say. Recalling a move from red-belt form, Alex struck.

Alex crisscrossed his hands, and wrenched Getchsburg's hand from his shirt, grabbing the man's arms, and in one smooth move, grasped Getchsburg's head and brought the man's head down and his knee up. There was a sickening sound of breaking bones as the man's face collided with Alex's knee. Not yet finished, Alex pushed Getchsburg back, and punched in hard in the stomach with both hands; leaping back gracefully, Alex finished off by giving the man another punch in the groin.

Groaning, Getchsburg sank to the ground, on the brink of unconsciousness.

Suddenly remembering the other two men, Alex turned and drew his gun. He aimed at Vertroisky and fired. The man who had been staring with disbelief while his partner was being defeated by a child, went down with a cry as a bullet hit him in the shoulder. But that was not enough.

Trained to endure pain, Vertroisky moved his gun to his other hand, and fired at Alex again. Alex dodged the bullet and scrambled for cover behind on of the bunks.

Heart thudding, Alex realized that to stop the man, he would probably have to kill him…something he was hesitant to do. Frowning, Alex jumped out and aimed blindly, not knowing where the bullet would end up. Surprisingly, the bullet hit Vertroisky's other arm, and Vertroisky dropped to the floor with a small scream of agony.

Alex winced and looked towards the spot where Helsinki had been, ignoring the fight and carefully monitoring a lap top.

It was empty.

"Alex."

The voice came from behind him, and Alex whirled around to see Helsinki holding a long switchblade against the coach's neck.

"Drop your weapons Alex, and don't move."

Alex did as he was told. The coach looked at Alex, with a confused look. He opened his mouth to say something, but Helsinki coughed lightly and the coach closed his mouth again.

Alex's last weapon went down with a clatter.

"Very good. Now listen to me very carefully Alex…"


	5. Termination

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Alex Rider, I wouldn't be writing at this website….I'd be writing the 7th book and making a lot of money!

Hey Peoples! Sorry for the LONG wait, but my computer died and it only got fixed YESTERDAY! IT'S ALIVE! I also have a LOT of homework and projects and tests.

Dunno if this chapter is good or not…my house is being repainted, and I feel a bit…strange. It's probably from inhaling all those paint fumes. I wonder if their toxic?

Thank you for all the reviews! BTW, where did I put VR slash? I don't remember, and I can't find it in my story…maybe it's a typo?

Alex mentally cursed himself…he should have known better. Had he seriously thought that Helsinki would have remained by the computer the whole time? Right now, the Finn had a blade against his coach's neck, and from the looks of the boys on his soccer team, everyone in the room more or less had an idea of what he was. Worst of all, Alex was sure that he was out of plans…

"Very good Alex, now before we start having fun, perhaps you would like to tell me where you got those nice weapons of yours? And perhaps, you would like to give your classmates and your poor coach here, an explanation in your own words? You're the reason they're stuck here now, Alex. "

Helsinki waited, but Alex ignored him. He ignored everything…if he could just come up with SOMETHING. He slowly withdrew from fighting stance, as if surrendering. Right then, he felt it: a sharp pain on his right foot. He opened his mouth and at the same time looked down casually at his right foot. Tucked safely in his socks was the knife he had strapped to his foot earlier at Yassen's cabin. He had forgotten about it.

"Alex?" prompted Helsinki. The man had a sadistic smile on his face, evidently, he was enjoying himself.

Alex turned to face his teammates; he faced them all one by one looking them right in the eye, trying to reassure them. He began to pace as though he was troubled. Helsinki stopped smiling and tightened his grip on the coach, but didn't attempt to get Alex to stand still.

"Yes, he's right. I'm not a normal schoolboy, I do work for the MI6," Alex turned to look at Helsinki, who had relaxed his posture and grip on the coach, totally unworried. Why would he? Alex may have beaten his two partners but that was probably just from sheer dumb luck. Alex Rider was a mere boy, and he had his own hostage …what could go wrong? Helsinki backed a few inches away from the coach.

"I didn't want to work for MI6, but they blackmailed me into working for them. Now, I can't get out of it. The only reason that I'm still alive right now is that I'm good at what I do—" With this, Alex leaned down and grabbed the knife from his leg, and charged at Helsinki, who didn't have time to react. Alex knocked over Helsinki and both fell to the ground, struggling. Alex fell on top of Helsinki, who had landed hard. Alex attempted to bring his knife to Helsinki's throat, but the man was stronger and easily threw Alex off, cutting Alex on the thigh with his blade. Landing a few feet away, Alex shook off the pain and charged savagely at Helsinki again. The Finn had drawn his gun, and fired: the bullet grazed Alex's shoulder, but Alex got close enough to swipe Helsinki across the stomach with the knife. Helsinki didn't cry out, but lowered his gun slightly and lowered his other hand to his stomach. That tiny distraction, though, was all Alex needed. Alex tackled the man again, and knocked away his gun away. He punched Helsinki in the face, and hit down hard on the pressure point on the man's neck. Helsinki lost consciousness almost immediately.

Limping slightly and wincing in pain, Alex untied the coach and went wordlessly to the laptop that was still on the bench.

"Alex…" Tom began, but Alex ignored him. He had to know.

Alex looked down at the laptop:

**Subject: **Alex Rider

**Winning Bidder: **MI6, Military Intelligence 6

**Price: **Two billion Euros

**Notes: **Wanted terminated

**Agree? **

Alex couldn't breathe, his chest felt tight. He felt anger welling up inside him. After all he had DONE for these people…they'd rather have him killed, then help him! _Wanted terminated_

IIIIIIIIIIIIII

At that very instant, there came a small crash, and Yassen Gregorovich came down the chimney, covered in soot. He eyed the situation in the room.

"Well, Alex," he drawled lazily, "I was wrong, you are nothing like your father. Even he wouldn't have been crazy enough to go down a chimney."


	6. Pharaoh

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Alex Rider, I wouldn't be writing at this website….I'd be writing the 7th book and making a lot of money!

For what he desperately hoped was the last time in his life, Alex Rider sat across from the emotionless face of Alan Blunt, and Mrs. Jones, who had a pack of peppermints with her as usual. In the silence, he recalled what had happened in the past two days:

After the blizzard had passed, Alex had called the police. As they waited, Alex had avoided his teammates and coach's questions, and Yassen had told Alex how his father had saved his life that day years ago in the Amazon.

_To take a life and save a life with one bullet—that's not a bad going._

Yassen left as soon as the first sounds of the police and ambulance sirens could be heard. This time Alex was sure it would be the last time he would see the Russian.

Not surprisingly, an operative for MI6 had shown up with the police. The operative had spoken a while with Alex's coach and teammates, and told Alex that everything had been sorted out. Then she left, taking the laptop with her.

This morning, Alex had received the call, asking him to come down to the bank. There, Crawley had said, they would explain the thing about the bid…

Alan Blunt coughed lightly and Mrs. Jones began, "Alex, about the bid. We _did _bid for you, but we entered under the name 'Pharaoh'…I suppose someone else entered under MI6."

They were lying. Alex could tell from their hesitant manner of speaking and he was disgusted.

"And I thought spy's were supposed to be good at lying." He growled, and stood up.

"Alex…?" asked Mrs. Jones. She sounded confused.

"You didn't want the trouble of sending men in and rescuing me in front of my soccer team! You'd rather pay the money and let me be taken care of by someone else!" snarled Alex.

Alan Blunt was silent and staring intently at some papers on his desk. Mrs. Jones looked bewildered, but her eyes betrayed her. It was true.

"No, Alex it's not—"she began.

Alex Rider turned and ran out of the bank, swearing that he'd never go back there again.

There was silence in the office. Mrs. Jones turned and glared at Blunt, who was nonchalantly shifting the papers on his desk.

"Alan." Was all she said.

Blunt still did not look up, but he said warily, "The boy will be back. We both know it. Once you're in this, you can't get out again. Maybe he won't trust us, but he will be back here again. "


	7. A short break

Hello everybody…this is masterwolfie. Yes, I AM still alive, I just haven't got the time to write recreationally anymore, I'm very sorry!

This is just a note to say that this story IS completed and it shall remain that way unless you guys really want me to write more. If so, e-mail me and I shall wrack my brain for ideas and scrouge some time to write. If not, then it's complete thank you all very much for reading, please stop e-mailing me threats of what you'll do to me if I don't update…they're scary. TT

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Ok…that was what I said before but in the past 30 minutes, I've received 6 reviews! (gasp) I can't express how touched and happy I am at these reviews and all the kind things you readers have to say.

Look, I usually don't like to…let's say…carry on my writings and have them be too long. I also usually don't continue with my work unless I'm sure I can do an equally good job as I did before.

I originally intended for this fanfic to end where it did, but apparently that will have to change.

As soon as I possibly can, after all these projects and tests are over and my work load lightens a bit, I will begin working on continuing the Yassen fanfic. Whether this is through more chapters or another sequel fanfic, we'll have to see. Feel free to e-mail any suggestions to me…and I mean E-MAIL peoples! If you are a member, you should be able to see it…

I'm warning you all right now: it has been a year and my writing style has probably changed greatly and having matured I'm not as diabolical as I used to be. I am really busy and will probably remain really busy for a while so the spaces between my updates will further increase.

I cannot assure you that what I will write will be a masterpiece, or even mediocre. I'll try my best…for now…happy waiting (unless someone wants to do my homework for me…how about it? A mythology ad project—oh fun!)


	8. A Mirage

Diclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider series blah blah blah…

Here you all are…actually my writing style may have changed again. Who cares? It's a sequel :P. if you're going to complain about it, go ahead. You probably just won't have a head (or a life) tomorrow morning. Keep in mind that the making of this sequel were the fans' ideas and I warned you all.

Honestly Mpro1, you should publish that review you just wrote me…oh sorry, did I just call it a review? It's more like…an essay, or a proposal :P

About the setting…I haven't been to the Mirage for AGES! Not since 5th grade, so don't complain if I got it all wrong…all I remember is a lobby that looked like a tropical jungle.

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Unlike the rest of the world, Las Vegas never sleeps at night. The streets of Las Vegas at 1 a.m. are just darker versions of Las Vegas at 1 p.m. Even the steady downpour that was taking place did not affect the hustle and bustle that was going on. A wide array of people filled the streets: tourists who did not want to waste time sleeping, gamblers, drug dealers, gang bangers, policemen, and more. A face in the streets was nothing more than a face in the streets.

Thus, no one noticed when one particular man walked into the Mirage Hotel. No one gave him a second glance as he went onto an escalator and headed toward a cheap, obscure restaurant at the back of the hotel. There was nothing remarkable or sinister about the man—in fact, he seemed to be nothing more than a businessman on a trip in Vegas, and that was exactly what the man wanted. He was none other than Lukas Marcswong, one of the richest men in the world…and also one of the most ruthless. Where his money came from? Nobody knew, nobody dared to ask, although there were plenty of theories. Get on his bad side? Then you might as well have never existed because within a few hours, you won't.

The most peculiar thing about Lukas Marcswong, however, was that nobody knew who he was. The name was fake as was whatever accent he was using that week. No one knew where he came from or even what he really looked like. The intelligence agencies had no information on him—Lukas Marcswong had made sure of it.

Marcswong entered the restaurant and sat down at a seat across from another man. Marcswong spoke first:

"I usually do not meet with those I employ, in person. Yet I found your…resume very impressive. I just had to come."

"I am honored," replied the man across from Marcswong, "How may I be of service to you?"

"How funny that you should ask, Mr. Gregorovich! I need you to do what you do best, of course!"

"Of course…and…"

"Half of your payment is already in your account. I assumed you wouldn't turn down the job, Mr. Gregorovich."

"That's very generous of you," said Yassen, knowing full well that to turn down a job from Marcswong meant death for himself. "And who may this unfortunate fellow be, that you need disposed of?"

"John Rider's son."

There was a long silence.

"Mr. Gregorovich?" prompted Marcswong.

"Consider it done."


	9. Silencer

**Well! It's been a year since I last updated this story xD I'm sorry I took so long…I blame school: I was drowning under all that work x.x. However, summer is now approaching! Ten thousand cheers for summer vacation! I do have a final on Wednesday though, so this will probably be a short chapter. My writing style has probably changed again xD weee!**

**I'm not sure if anyone still reads this…but…here goes!**

**Also, I thank the people who have continued to review and nag me to write more :D **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider series, Anthony Horowitz does. **

Alex Rider half jogged and half ran through the park, dribbling his soccer ball in front of him. He had agreed to meet up with his friend, Tom Harris, to have a one on one soccer match but he was thirty minutes late. As Alex ran, he felt grateful that Tom knew about his involvement with MI6 so he would be able to tell Tom the real reason he was late: he had just spent the morning being debriefed by a bored-looking Alan Blunt. Mrs. Jones had not been there. Alex wouldn't have to make up a weak excuse, which was just as well, since he could not afford to lose any more friends.

Alex took a shortcut through the park, running through a horse trail surrounded on either side by dense thickets. As he ran however, Alex became aware of the unnatural silence. There were no birds calling and even the mosquitoes had disappeared. Something was wrong.

His first instinct was to run. To leave the soccer ball behind, break into a sprint, and go where there were people. However, against his own instincts, Alex stopped and froze. As he did so, he heard a soft whining sound and a bullet almost grazed his nose, speeding across the space where he would have been if he had kept running. Someone was shooting at him with a silenced gun! The bullet had come from his left, so Alex turned and dashed into the thicket at his right, randomly twisting and turning to avoid getting shot.

As Alex burst into the thicket, he was met by a wall of bushes, trees, weeds, and bugs. Alex thrashed blindly around the thicket, once running into a spider that was as big as his head. He had intended to make his way through the thicket and emerge at the edge of the park where there was a busy street, but he found himself hopelessly lost. Worst yet, he made so much noise as he crashed through the bushes, he might as well have been holding a flashing neon sign. Another bullet whizzed by his head, this time grazing his cheek. Alex muffled a cry of pain, and suppressed the sudden urge to loudly curse at MI6. Yelling would only draw more attention to his location. As Alex darted to the left, another bullet came tearing towards him, this time grazing his arm and tearing his shirt. Alex looked down and his heart fell. His shirt was bright blue. Against the green and brown backdrop, Alex was a walking target. Alex opened his mouth to curse but before he could form the words, someone grabbed him by the shoulder, and threw him to the ground. Alex hit the ground hard, twisting and falling on the shoulder that had just been grazed by the bullet. He tasted blood in his mouth and realized that he had bitten both his lip and his tongue. Alex twisted around to face his attacker, intending to strike out with a karate kick, but his foot met empty air. His attacker moved out of the way gracefully, in one swift motion that reminded Alex of a ballet dancer…or of…

Yassen Gregorovich stared down at Alex. He was holding a gun.

"Alex."

"Yassen…but why?"

Yassen shrugged nonchalantly. "I was paid."

"By who? And what about that debt you were talking about, huh? The one you owe my father!"

Yassen considered that for a moment, but did not move the gun away. Alex looked around for something, _anything_, but he knew it was hopeless. From his previous encounters with Yassen, Alex knew that the killer was too skilled for him. Alex was going to die. No one would find his body for days, if they ever did. No one would care except for Jack and Tom. The very thought was almost too horrible to contemplate but Alex could not help but think it.

"The life debt I owe your father has been paid many times over Alex. First with Damien Cray. That almost cost me my own life. Then with the men on your school trip. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, it is YOU who owes me a life debt now."

Alex paled. He could not think of a reply to that. There was no logic in that comment. Yassen noticed his confusion.

"I'll explain later Alex. We have to go now and get to a safe house. There is one nearby."

Yassen lowered the gun and Alex blinked. He wasn't going to die? However, the hope and relief that came with that thought left him in one horrible instant when he realized something just as a cold voice came from behind Yassen. The gun that had been shooting at him was silenced. The gun Yassen holding had no silencer.

"I wouldn't move if I were you, Mr. Gregorovich. As well trained as you are, even _you_ can't react fast enough to save yourself or the boy if I decide to shoot."


	10. Bears, Flowers, and Manholes

**Sup guys? Thanks for the reviews and favorites! ******** I still have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this xD I was really tempted to remove the most recent chapters and end the story…but I'll plow on and hope this won't turn into some sort of literary disaster…**

**Oh and I've never been to London so if my geography is completely off, I apologize. **

**This is going to be relatively short and I won't update again until after I've read ****Snakehead**

**Disclaimer: see first chapter **

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Alan Blunt drummed his fingers on his desk as he gazed down at a piece of paper in front of him. He was sitting in his bland office at the Royal & General Headquarters in London. His attention was only partially fixed on the piece of paper, however, and he kept gazing at a small potted plant on his desk. The plant itself was shriveling, unhealthy, and appeared as grey as the room it was in and the man who owned it. However, the hiss of static was coming steadily from the plant, or rather, the pot it sat upon. The potted plant had been a gift from Smithers, and it was actually a communications device. Now, the voice of Mrs. Jones emitted from the plant.

"Alan? It's been confirmed, the boy didn't reach his destination. We found his football in one of the paths. We have agents preparing to search the thickets and positioned at all strategic exits from the thickets."

"I see. I want you to pay special attention to Kensington High Street. Send Wolf there"

Mrs. Jones hesitated. Alan Blunt had been known for his extraordinarily good sense of intuition while he had been a field agent. But that was a long time ago…

"That's on the other side of the park, Alan, and there are many people there…"

"I know." Came the cold reply.

"And about sending Wolf?"

"It's the best we can do. Out of all of us, Wolf may be the one Alex trusts the most. But it's a long call. We may have already lost. "

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"Monsieur Marcswong sends his regards."

It seemed as though all the air had left the clearing. Alex froze. Part of him was paralyzed with fear, and another part was screaming at his helplessness. After all his training, everything he's been through, he still could do nothing each time he found himself in a situation like this. His internal battle of fear and frustration was enhanced by the fact that the man behind Yassen was massive. He was like a bear, and Alex was astounded that he had managed to enter the clearing so quietly. Standing near the man, Alex felt incredibly weak and young. Alex glanced at Yassen, who was standing taut as he was being disarmed by the Bear man. There was no expression in his eyes, but his lips formed a word. _Run_. Alex knew that if he did run now, he had a chance of getting away, but he couldn't.

The Bear man glanced at Alex. "You, little Alex," he snarled, "will walk ahead of me now. I shall be behind you with dear Yassen here. If you try anything, Yassen will die and then you will die. _Comprend?_'

Alex nodded reluctantly. There was nothing else he could do. He trudged off in the direction the Bear man had directed him. They walked in silence and the Bear man only spoke to give Alex directions. Once, Alex had accidentally turned the wrong way and was rewarded with a bullet came so close that it burned his nose. Finally, after thirty minutes, they exited the thicket and emerged at the edge of Abbotsbury road. There was no one in sight aside from a waiting van. Alex almost groaned out loud. Holland Park was almost always packed with people at this hour, but now, there would be no help. The Bear man smirked.

"We arranged to have this place abandoned. I'm sorry to dash your hopes, little Alex." He said sarcastically. He turned to the van, which had been painted to resemble that of a flower store. There was a driver waiting inside.

"In." Bear man commanded, with a small wave of the hand that held the gun. That was a mistake. The moment Bear man moved the gun away from Yassen's head, both Alex and Yassen struck. Alex lunged himself at the Bear man's hand that was wielding the gun and managed to shift the gun foreword as it went off. It was like hanging on to a tree. The bullet grazed Yassen's throat, right below the spot where John Rider had previously left his mark. As the Bear man flung Alex off, Yassen freed himself, ignoring the blood that was streaming down his throat and struck at the back of the Bear man's neck before he could react. The blow hit a pressure point, and Bear man collapsed, unconscious. Another shot went off followed by a tremendous crack, and Alex turned to see that the driver of the van had attempted to shoot at Yassen from his van. But the bullet was stopped by the van's bulletproof windows. Yassen took the Bear man's gun from Alex and fired. His shot hit the exact point where the driver's bullet had hit milliseconds before, pierced the weakened glass, and found its mark.

Alex and Yassen ran, but they had only moved a couple meters from the van when they found themselves surrounded on four sides by more vans that had come from seemingly nowhere. The vans had stopped in perfect formation and there was no room between any of them. Yassen cursed loudly in Russian as Alex muttered an oath in English. The drivers of the vans were all wearing identical smirks, and taking their time exiting the vans. They had trapped their prey, who had nowhere to go. But Alex noticed that he was standing on a manhole. Quickly, he bent down and tried to lift off the manhole cover. But it wouldn't budge. Alex tried again but realized that the manhole was completely sealed off. Bloody Hollywood action movies. Yassen grabbed Alex and pulled him up. They were now surrounded by the four drivers, all holding automatic pistols. A man emerged from one of the vans. He had brown hair and eyes and was wearing an expensive-looking business suit. He was Lukas Marcswong.

Marcswong glanced at Alex and Yassen appraisingly and then he spoke.

"The thing about luck, gentlemen, is that eventually, it runs out."


	11. Vans, Cats, and Buses

The van even smelled like flowers.

Alex found himself in the back of one of the vans. He had been searched and his shoes had been removed. His hands and feet were bound and he was gagged.

"I'm not taking any chances," Markswong had told him, "The men you have previously defeated were defeated because of their stupidity. They underestimated you even when they knew about your history. I am not a stupid man, Mr. Rider. I will not underestimate you, and this time, you will not be getting away."

Every time the van turned a corner, Alex found himself sliding along with the van's momentum and crashing painfully into the walls. It was not a short ride and by the time the van came to a full stop for the last time, Alex was bruised and battered. He was dragged out of the van and his feet were unbound. It was dark, but Alex could make out that he was on the grounds of some sort of estate. He was joined by Yassen, who was unbound, and they were hurried into a small building that looked very much like a guest house. But Alex had a feeling that this guest house would not be very welcoming to its guests. The door to the guest house opened, and Alex found himself stumbling down a set of stairs in the dark. It was very cold and the stairs felt and sounded like they were made of stone. They were going steadily downwards, and Alex was unpleasantly reminded of the Tower of London. Torture chambers in the dungeons. The man in front of him suddenly stopped, and Alex crashed into him. As he stumbled backwards, a door was opened and Alex was shoved inside. The room was only dimly lit by a fire but even that small amount of light was blinding after the oppressive darkness of the tunnel. Alex Rider was not surprised to find Markswong in front him, sitting in an armchair. He was even smoking a cigar.

"Where's the cat?" Alex asked. He expected to be beaten for the comment, but the blow did not come.

"Mr. Tibbles is at the groomer's, Alex, thank you for asking." Replied Markswong, as he blew a smoke ring. "But let us not go off on a tangent."

Alex Rider was ran over by a bus. The End.


End file.
